


good. better. best.

by ellenm (quasiradiant)



Category: Birds of Prey (Comic)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:29:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quasiradiant/pseuds/ellenm





	good. better. best.

You could stop, but you know you won't. Because there's enough and then there's excess, and you've always been a big, big fan of the latter.

It would certainly be good just to touch Barbara, good to just get her in private and not have to hold back. It would be good just to be able to take off the mask. And it would be very, very good to taste that spot between her breasts and hear that little noise Barbara always makes even though she always tries not to.

But sometimes good's not enough and better is, well, better.

And it's definitely better to have Barbara like this, arms pinned and hips pinned and back arched, muscles strung so tight they might snap. Better to have Barbara whimpering “stop” and “don't stop” and “never stop,” better to have one of Barbara's nipples between her teeth, to have Barbara's wrists in one hand and Barbara's hair in the other.

“Don't worry,” you whisper against Barbara's ear, “I don't plan on stopping.” And, oh, yes, it's definitely better to slide your tongue down the line of Barbara's jaw, to release her hands just so she can bury them in your hair o pull you closer. To kiss her so that her lips will be swollen in the morning.

Her mouth and her tongue and the way she bites your bottom lip almost hard enough to make it bleed, the way she pulls away just long enough to say, “Come on, Helena, what are you waiting for?”: these are the reasons you love her, the reasons why you come home to her when anybody in their right mind would be an idiot to turn you down.

And, oh God it's good to trace your nails across her slick skin, between her breasts, along the battle-trained muscles of her arms and stomach, to have her push your head down and down, to have a beautiful fucking woman who never says please but always says thank you.

You trace your tongue along the line you know is there, where the skin that's numb meets the skin that's not. You've mapped it before, and you've never really understood why Barbara makes that noise when you do it. You just know she likes it, that you like it, that sometimes she just seems happy she feels anything at all.

And people might not guess it, but she can definitely feel it when you drag your tongue across her clit. You help her bend her leg, to give you better access, and it's better than better, the way she tastes and the way she tangles her fingers in your hair, the way she uses you the way she can't quite use her hips. The way time dilates until there's just her and you and nothing else in the universe.

When she comes, it's with something like a battle cry, her mouth open and her eyes open and her palms open to the sky.

You slide up her, kissing as you go. She grabs hold of you, pulling you tight against her.

And yeah, it's definitely not what people would think about you, but, really this, this thing, with your face pressed into her hair and her breath against your ear, the way she whispers love you: this is the very, very best.


End file.
